en yo' didna know I loved yo' aw' yore
life--happen yo' didna, but it's true. When yo' wur a little lass
gatherin' sea-weed on th' sands I watched yo' when I wurafeared to
speak--afeared lest yo'd gi' me a sharp answer, fur yo' wur ready enow
wi' 'em, wench. I've watched yo' fur hours when I wur a great lubberly
lad, an' when yo' gettin' to be a woman it wur th' same thing. I watched
yo' an' did yo' many a turn as yo' knowed nowt about. When yo' wur
searchin' fur drift to keep up th' fire after th' owd mon deed an' left
yo' alone, happen yo' nivver guessed as it wur me as heaped little piles
i' th' nooks o' th' rocks so as yo'd think 'at th' tide had left it
theer--happen yo' did n't, but it wur true. I've stayed round the old
house many a neet, feared summat mought harm yo', an' yo' know yo' niwer
gave me a good word, Meg. An' then Dan comn an' he made way wi' yo' as
he made way wi' aw th' rest--men an' women an' children. He niwer worked
an' waited as I did--he niwer thowt an' prayed as I did; everything come
easy wi' him--everything allus did come easy wi' him, an' when I seed
him so light-hearted an' careless about what I wur cravin' it run me
daft an' blind. Seemt like he couldna cling to it like I did an' I begun
to fight agen it, an' when I heerd about that lass o' Barnegats I towd
yo', an' when I seen yo' believed what I didna believe mysen, it run me
dafter yet, an' I put more to what he said, an' held back some, an'
theer it wur an' theer it stands, an' if I've earnt a curse, lass, I've
getten it, fur--fur I thowt yo'd been learnin' to care fur me a bit sin'
we wur wed, an' God knows I've tried to treat yo' fair an' kind i' my
poor way. It wurna Dan Morgan's way, I know--his wur a better way than
mine, th' sun shone on him somehow--but I've done my best an' truest
sin'."

"Yo've done yo're worst," she said. "Th' worst yo' could do wur to part
us, an' yo' did it. If yo'd been half a mon yo' wouldna ha' been content
wi' a woman yo'd trapped with sayin' 'Aye,' an' who cared less for yo'
than she did fur th' sand on th' sea-shore. What's what yo've done sin'
to what yo' did afore? Yo' conna wipe that out and yo' conna mak' me
forget. I hate yo', an' th' worse because I wur beginnin' to be content
a bit. I hate mysen. I ought to ha' knowed"--wildly--"he would ha'
knowed whether I wur true or false, poor chap--he would ha' knowed."

She rocked herself to and fro for a minute, wringing her hands in a
passion of angu